


The Prince of Nothing

by Hetaliano



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe, Illness, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Medieval AU, kingdom - Freeform, prince - Freeform, probabaly gonna be a slow burn guys look out, sword fights that I can't write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 08:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15626991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hetaliano/pseuds/Hetaliano
Summary: A prince has many duties expected of him, but Prince Stanley doesn't quite live up to his father's standards. He rarely eats meat, despises alcohol, prefers to interact with the castle's farm animals rather than people, and, on top of it all, flat out rejects the advances of any woman who tries. Why?Born into a long line of knights, Kyle Broflovski is expected to carry on this tradition. However, try as he might, there is one thing holding him back. A mysterious illness that has afflicted the boy since birth makes even the most basic training an arduous task.





	The Prince of Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> A twist on the usual South Park kingdom stuff, because it's almost always Kyle's the prince and Stan's a knight. Let's flip the round table! This time, we've got Prince Stanley and Kyle the knight. How will it turn out? I have no idea aha. I have the plot vaguely mapped out though... so I guess I do...
> 
> I am a very busy person these days, so I can't promise updates to this will be anywhere near regular, but I already have a few chapters written, so!
> 
> That summary sucked ewwww and that title will almost definitely change yo

Stanley Marsh wasn’t the prince his father wanted him to be. He refused to go on hunts, often getting angry with his father when he returned with the spoils. He only ate meat in esteemed company, and there was no end to the barrage of complaints and sulking that occurred afterward once said company had retired. He hated the alcoholic beverages his father loved so much, having had a near-death experience with it when he was younger. He loved spicy food and being around the various animals scattered around the castle grounds. His sister often remarked he would have made a better stable boy than prince; make a living shovelling shit rather than being one.

He showed no interest in the line of women who wanted his hand in marriage. In fact, he’d received a letter from another woman from a far kingdom who was travelling to meet him in person, apparently unable to accept the fact that she’d been rejected without even being allowed a face-to-face meeting. This was an annoyingly common occurrence, stubborn women believing that they can change his mind if they show enough cleavage. He just didn’t care.

The one thing that actually met his father’s princely standards was the boy’s love for the sword. Along with his regular lessons, he trained with the knights when he had spare time. He liked to teach them himself, offer pointers and observe the state of what was essentially his army. It was where he was now, hiding in regular knights armour, inconspicuous amongst the large group of boys. It was the first time in almost two years he’d been able to participate in a full armour lesson, and he was nearly 100% sure not even the commander had recognised him.

He liked being inconspicuous. It meant he was treated like everyone else, temporarily free from the burdens of being prince. Sometimes he’d dress down and sneak out into the marketplace, or the farmlands, or anywhere, really. Although it usually didn’t take long for some overly royal fanatical peasant to recognise him and a split second after that to be swarmed by his people.

He surveyed the crowd of people gathered around him. Even through the armour, it was easy to tell that some were only boys, fresh from their mothers. He felt a stab of pity and guilt, knowing that while some were there because they genuinely wanted to become knights and serve the kingdom, others were there because their families couldn’t afford their keep, or for other less than pleasant reason. It didn’t matter. They are here now.

Suppressing a cough, Kyle Broflovski donned his knights armour. It was outrageously heavy and looked more than a little awkward on his thin frame. He hoped he’d never have to actually wear it in battle; it limited his ability to do basically everything. He’d last two seconds, that much was apparent in the rare times they were required to wear full armour in training. The commander scowled as he walked up, his gait obviously uncomfortable.

“Get some muscles on you, Broflovski.” The older man turned away.

“Yes sir.” 

He tried, but his body seemed impervious to bulking up. Despite having been in training for almost a year and a half, he looked essentially the same. A cough escaped before he could hide it, and the knight beside him scoffed.

“Stop trying. Everyone knows you’ll be dead by the end of the year.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tucker. Where’s your stable boy? Were you caught with your dick up his ass again?” He pulled on the helmet, hiding his tell-tale red curls and disguising himself.

The other growled, and Kyle could hear the noise of his fists clenching in the armour, but he released it and pulled on his own helmet, turning his head forward.

The commander cleared his throat. “What the fuck are you waiting for? Get to it.”

The group scrambled, peeling off into pairs to spar. Kyle sighed, the bulk of his outfit already weighing on him. A hand grabbed his arm. “You. Me. It’s on.”

He groaned. The Prince, Clyde Donovan. Of course, he wasn’t a real prince. He was just like most of the other boys here; abandoned. He’d been given up by his father after his mother’s death. Kyle had heard the boy had been a snivelling wreck for the first three years, but he insisted that his abandonment had actually been a mature decision on his part, that he decided his father would be unable to support the two of them, and as a result, decide to become a knight. Although, even in the time he’d known him, Kyle knew he wasn’t a stranger to a good cry. He was boisterous and walked with his back straight, often bantering with the higher ups. That charisma earned him the nickname. Some of the knights liked to kid that the King would do better taking Clyde under his wing and throwing his real kid to the animals he so loved to be with.

Clyde wasn’t necessarily the best fighter, but he always chose to make himself look better by picking on the weakest link, which in ordinary circumstances, wasn’t usually Kyle. He was pretty bad, but he wasn’t the worst. However, the entire group knew he was absolutely shocking when wearing armour, hence Clyde’s choice. And the man wasn’t a gracious winner either.

Kyle drew his sword with a bit of difficulty, and he knew Clyde hadn’t missed the fact. He made a show of pulling his out with ease, taking a defensive stance. Kyle knew the play and wasn’t about to indulge in the other’s game. He shifted into the same position.

“You challenged me, you make the first move.” 

Clyde chuckled and charged, giving Kyle just enough time to raise his sword in defence. The metals clanged together momentarily before Clyde struck again, Kyle barely managing to defend himself. The red-head grunted with the force of the strike, but took his opportunity to attack, swinging his sword at the boy. Clyde defended easily, pushing back as their weapons collided, sending Kyle stumbling backwards, the weight of his armour pulling him to the ground.

He groaned. He’d drawn a lot of stares as the first to fall, his failure amplified by the noise of his armour. Within seconds, Clyde’s sword was pointed at his throat. It stayed there longer than necessary as he laughed, before extending a hand down to help him up. Despite wanting to just lay there where he didn’t have to deal with the effort of trying to pull himself up, he took the hand. 

“Did you see that everyone? Two seconds. I hope your dick lasts longer than that.” Clyde laughed again, clapping him hard on the back and sending Kyle into a coughing fit. He quickly pulled off the helmet. By the time he’d recovered, Clyde had sauntered off and the coughing had sent his stomach flipping.

“Broflovski.”

Kyle flinched. The tone was harsh and he knew exactly who it belonged to. Spinning around, the commander was glaring at him, arms crossed. “Sorry sir, I’ll do better next time.”

“The hell you will. Get here.”

He begrudgingly followed the order, knowing what came next: tutelage. He hated it. It wasn’t that he couldn’t fight, it was that his body couldn’t handle it, especially thanks to the armour. 

“I know you hate the armour, but you have to get used to it.” The commander looked around, clearly searching for a sparring partner for him. When he found what he was looking for, he headed over.

Kyle watched in the direction the commander walked in, and he knew exactly where he was going. There was a knight up ahead fighting almost effortlessly, despite the heavy armour they were all wearing. The knight did not pause at the commander’s presence, instead taking advantage of his partner’s momentary distraction and disarming him, effectively ending the fight. Kyle could not hear the conversation that went on, but the commander quickly spun around and headed back towards him, the knight in tow.

“It takes a while to get used to the weight. How long have you been here?” The voice was oddly familiar, but the metallic echo distorted it somewhat. Kyle thought it was strange that the knight didn’t remove his helmet to talk; it was courtesy.

“Uh, about a year and a half.”

“So, you should have practiced a lot with the armour then. It’s taking you a bit long to get used to, isn’t it?”

Kyle lifted his chin, feeling his face reddening. “I-I can fight just fine without it.”

“Good.” The man took a defensive stance. “Hit me.”

Putting his helmet back on, Kyle obliged. His sword bounced harmlessly off the other’s, the shock reverberating up his arms and making him grunt.

“Again. Bend your elbow a bit more.”

This time, the knight counterattacked, taking Kyle by surprise and knocking him back. He managed to stay on his feet this time, however, and attacked the knight again. It continued for a few minutes, the two exchanging blows until Kyle physically could not keep up the fight. His muscles burned, his vision had blurred and his head was spinning. He swung his sword weakly, and the man’s counterattack sent him sprawling on his back. He pulled his helmet off, his stomach threatening to empty it’s contents out the way they came in. A silver blur hovered above him and he closed his eyes to try and stop the spinning. He felt himself yanked to his feet, but he knew he was too weak to stand. He crumpled, but the silver blur supported him.

“He needs to rest for a moment.” The metallic echo spoke, and Kyle couldn’t have agreed more. The knight practically dragged him away and they collapsed a little way away against a wall. Kyle couldn’t be bothered figuring out where they were, instead opting to close his eyes.

“Are you alright?”

Kyle grunted, too exhausted to try to stop the coughing that followed. 

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“You know, it’s common etiquette to take off your helmet when you’re speaking.”

A metallic laugh. “I know that, but I’d rather not.”

“Why? Horribly disfigured?”

It laughed again. “Something like that.”

Kyle opened his eyes, turning his head in the direction of the knight. “I’ve seen a man with half his face burnt off. He had no eye, or lips. Trust me, I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“It is.”

Kyle sighed, letting his eyes fall shut again. “I’m fine. I just… the armour is the worst.”

“I agree. The stuff I usually wear is worse though. It’s almost suffocating.”

He opened his eyes again. “Is that so? Why?”

“You’re sick, aren’t you?”

He scowled, a badly timed cough surfacing. “You’re avoiding the question.”

“So are you. Broflovski-“

“My name’s Kyle.” He wasn’t a fan of his last name. It reminded him of the pressures of his lineage.

“Kyle. You don’t have to lie to me. I can help you.”

“Sure. What, send a sword through my chest?”

The knight sighed. “I can get you what you need.”

“Oh yeah? And why would you do that?”

“Seriously, I’m trying to help you and you’re just being an ass!”

“Why the fuck should I trust you? You won’t even take off your fucking helmet!”

“For fuck’s sake.” The knight tore off his helmet angrily and the red-head recoiled. The prince, the real one this time, sat beside him. The sudden action sent him coughing again and the prince sighed. “Still think I can’t help you?”

“I-I-I… Your Highness.” Kyle tried to bow awkwardly from his sitting position and the other sighed again.

“See? Disfigured. I can’t do anything without being stared at.” He put the helmet back on, hoping he hadn’t been noticed by anyone else.

He felt his face heating up again. He just yelled, cursed, at the prince. He was dead. “I-I’m really sorry about the things I said.”

He groaned, then clicked his tongue as if he’d had an idea. “To pay for your insolence, you’re letting me help you.”

Kyle’s jaw dropped. “Even after what I did?”

“Not your fault. To you, you were speaking to a random knight spouting nonsense. It’s forgivable.”

“Thank you, your highness.”

The prince got to his feet, helping the other stand. “Can you walk?”

“I… think so.”

“Good you’re coming with me.”

Kyle hesitantly followed. The prince. He was talking to the prince! He’d sparred with the prince. Sure, the prince turned up to their training quite often, but this, this was different. The prince walked up to the commander, who was trying to get one of the younger boy’s to hold his sword properly. He was less than impressed by the interruption.

“I’d like you to dismiss Broflovski for the day.”

He scowled. “What? And why should I do that?”

“Prince’s orders.”

“Right. What would the prince want with him? I have plenty of better men I can send him.”

The prince removed his helmet. The action was met by a sharp intake of breath, followed by the man dropping to his knees. The boy he’d been assisting did the same. “My-My prince, please forgive me, I was unaware-“

He rolled his eyes, quickly putting the helmet back on. “Rise, you’re forgiven.”

“Thank you, your highness. Take him, he’s yours.”

The prince nodded, turning to his companion. “Go change. I will wait for you here.”

Kyle nodded, scurrying away. He was more than eager to get out of the heavy metal suit.


End file.
